


when in the chronicle of wasted time

by strangesmallbard



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesmallbard/pseuds/strangesmallbard
Summary: "She can’t die.” Regina can’t stop looking at Emma, who’s not looking back. “You can’t die, you hear me.”She takes her hand off the wound. She hates this part, the waiting.**In which Regina is in denial about the prophecy, and Emma was in denial about another thing.





	

At first, Regina thinks it misses. That Emma will be fine.

She builds up a laugh, a practiced one that makes everyone flinch. She lets the Queen raise their hackles together for the first time.

Then Snow cries out. A sharp, keeled over sound that rips through Regina’s insides. She used to roll her eyes whenever Snow cried, but this scream takes her to places she’d always wanted dead and buried. Instead they rotted and rotted in the bright sun.

Emma’s shocked-in-headlight eyes lock with hers, and the hooded figure steps back, sword slick with sickening red. They vanish in tendrils of smoke, and Emma jerks forward and stumbles in a tangle of limbs on the concrete. The centerpiece of downtown Storybrooke’s intersection.

 _Emma!_ She thinks someone say behind the ringing in her ears, the one that makes time stand still and the world hazy and wrong. That someone could be her.

They rush forward in panic, all of them, and Regina only connects with her own voice when she lands knee first on concrete and presses a hand into the wound on her stomach, whispers a balming spell that will only last a few minutes if they’re lucky. Warm blood blooms underneath her hand and she wishes it was just skin as chilled as the rest of them.

Snow and David hold onto each other and stroke Emma’s hair, telling her nice, good things that won’t do anything for her, and they all know it. Henry holds her hand and says _we’re here, we’re here, we’re here_ and she knows that Emma is holding onto those words, and oh Regina. Can’t think about that right now.

“Everyone!” she bites whatever grief she can into the yell and glares. “Let me work!”

David’s eyes are fixed on his daughter, but it’s Snow, mid-sob, who holds her gaze. “What can you do?”

Regina swallows against a wind dried throat. “We prepared for this, remember? She’s _not_ dying today.” She looks at the wound and with everything running through her veins, she pushes the magic forward. Bright purple waves envelop the red and Regina’s never prayed a day in her life, but.

She chances a look at Emma instead. She’s breathing weakly, almost hoarsely, and she’s not looking at any of them. Regina presses harder and can’t stop something that sounds like a sob, only she’s not crying. “She can’t die.” Regina can’t stop looking at Emma, who’s not looking back. “ _You_ can’t die, you hear me.”

She takes her hand off the wound. She hates this part, the waiting.

“Mom,” this voice gets her attention. She jerks her head to the right. “The Queen’s not...out anymore, so who did this?”

Regina uses her shoulder to rub her eyes, just in case. “We’ll figure that out. We won’t let them get away with it, Henry. I promise.”

Henry’s brows furrow in concern, but he doesn’t say anything. She feels the Queen smirking, thinking of all the ways she’ll get revenge for every drop of blood lost, but no. She can’t. Not right now, not right now, and for the first time, the Queen listens. Settles back without conflicted sinews, and says okay, your go. I’ll be here if you need me, with almost no malice.

She clears her throat. “I’m going to do it again, but I’m going to need some space,” she says as soft as she can make it without leaving room for questions. Snow shakes her head violently, hands covered in snot, but David holds her and they move back on unsteady feet.

“Henry,” she says, reaching for his arm. “Keep telling her that you’re here. Even if she can’t hear, even if it’s in your head.”

“Mom, but–” Henry shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah I can do that,” his voice tapers off hoarse and tears well up in her baby’s eyes.

She wants hold him, soothe him, but she’s afraid she’ll start crying. That won’t soothe anyone.

She settles for the most comforting smile she can manage. “Step back, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t want to, she can tell from the way he stares at Emma like he can will her back to perfect health, but he nods, her brave boy who’s seen far too much, stands up on two feet, and goes to his grandparents. The moment he gets there, he falls into their arms and Regina can’t look, can’t respond, can’t–

“Call an ambulance,” she says to Snow as they all move back. “She’ll have lost blood and there’s no way for me to replenish it.”

Snow harshly wipes her face and nods. She looks at Regina long and hard, then Emma, and gives Regina soft eyes and a terrified smile. She opens up her mouth, and closes it immediately, puts her focus back on Henry.

Regina doesn’t think about it. Regina looks back at the wound, and the red is still there, still warm to touch and panic closes her throat again, settles like she swallowed thorns in her stomach. The world goes dangerously silent, Emma quieter still.

She tries again, and feels herself getting exhausted. She can’t get exhausted.

“Regina,” she hears. She almost thinks she’s imagined it, but Emma’s looking at her. Her gaze is steady and clear and still blank, the moon reflecting stark in her irises, but she’s smiling. It’s beautiful and it’s small and it makes Regina cry.

“It’s working,” Regina says, “it’s working, Emma. You’re going to be fine.” She forces a smile on her face because she wants her to keep smiling. She needs her to keep smiling and that’s every terrifying thought accumulated in her hands, pressed against the small of Emma’s back, in her words asking, what are we going to do.

Emma reaches up a lethargic hand and she wants to tell her to save her damn strength, and then she places that hand light against Regina’s cheek. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”

And oh, Regina wants. To. “A little faith now and then is healthy, Emma,” she says and gently, so gently puts her hand down. Rubs a finger across her knuckles before she lets it go.

The purple waves evaporate again, leaving more red. Regina can’t tell if it’s slowed down or not, but she refuses, absolutely _refuses_ to believe it hasn’t because Emma is alive and she’s smiling.

At her.

Regina pushes more magic out, and talks even though her voice won’t be strong. She scrambles for words and ends up saying, “Remember when you pulled me out of the fire?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“I was so…” she presses the magic further and almost cries out with the pressure on her heart. “You saved me and you hated me. Rightfully hated me. I’ve always,” she swallows, “I thought I hated you for it, but I’ve always remembered that you came back.”

“I would, again and ag–”

“Shh,” Regina says. “Just listen, but don’t stop listening.”

Emma nods.

“Remember when we were in Neverland, and–”

Emma laughs weakly. “Regina, what are you doing.”

“I’m–” She shakes her head. “Shut up, Ms. Swan, I’m saving your life.”

“You’re tired,” Emma says. “I’m tired too.”

“Emma, I swear, if you don’t–”

“I’ve been thinking of what to say if I had the time to say it.” She looks up again, away from her.

“You promised me,” Regina says, and wills more magic out of her when the last of the purple fades away. She thinks she stopped the bleeding, but she’s lost so much already, too much. No, no no no. “You promised we’d raise Henry together.”

They both glance at Henry, tucked into David’s side like he’s still ten years old. They’re far enough away that they can’t hear what’s going on, but the fear and the _hope_ in their eyes is absolutely too much.

Emma looks at her and gives a smile like they just survived Neverland all over again. “I promised you a lot of things.”

Regina shakes her head. “Stop it. You delivered on that promise.”

“Robin is dead,” She says and stops smiling. Closes her eyes, no no _no_.

 _“You’re_ not,” she says before she stops herself and feels her neck grow hot. ”Henry’s not. Your parents, as annoying as always, are not.”

Emma doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still closed.

“Emma?” she says in a voice too high. Regina's chest turns taut and her hands frantically press on the wound again. Her knee buckles under her weight, and she catches herself. The uneven concrete digs into her palm, and she heaves.

When she looks up, Emma’s eyes are open. She’s breathing.

“Don’t _ever,”_ she winces and heaves again as brings herself upright, “do that again.” She watches the purple close over the red remaining and hopes and hopes and–

“You hurt yourself,” Emma says, face contorted in pain. For _her._ “Regina, stop.”

Her head swims. “You’re not bleeding anymore. Your parents are getting Whale and–”

“It’ll open up in a minute. That sword was mag–”

“I know,” she snaps and almost runs a hand across her forehead before she remembers that it’s covered in Emma’s blood. She stares at it and her stomach lurches. “That’s why I made the potion! This spell, why I’m–”

Emma lifts her body with a pained sigh and holds Regina’s cheek this time, gently but as firmly as she can. Regina can only catch her as her elbow buckles, one arm around her waist and the other cradling her shoulders, her head, and then Emma is halfway draped across her lap. Warm and solid, breath short and too soft and still alive. She’s still holding Regina’s cheek.

This is what couldn’t happen. This is what’s happening, and Regina can feel the hay underneath her knees, digging and digging instead of concrete and Daniel’s face is in front of her, contorted and still. Around them is the barn, lit softly by torchlight instead of the streets of Storybrooke, closed down for the day and he’s cold in a way only a magical death could give and Emma is still warm. She’s still warm. Her eyes are hazy but she’s still warm she’s still warm.

“Hey,” Emma says.

Regina sobs, something like Snow’s, ancient and tired and wanting. She leans the weight of her head into Emma’s palm and wants to kiss it. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Emma says. “I’m. Regina, look, I...Iied in the mirror about not. Having this happen. I was still. I prepared for it, and I’m not afraid.” She laughs. “Okay, I am, terrified, but. Henry. You’re gonna do great. He’s a great kid. Becoming a great man.”

“Stop,” Regina says, trying to stop crying and failing when the word sounds like a cough. “The ambulance is coming.” She turns her head to find Snow and David and Henry still clustered, looking intently with furrowed brows. She tries to reassure them with a nod, and she’s sure the sight of her face a mess is anything but comforting. Still, they don’t come. Still, they trust her to see this through.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Emma says and Regina turns back. Her lips twitch up. Her eyes become clear again, like she’s fully awake and not– Regina doesn’t know how Emma is so calm, but she also _knows_ , and cries all over again.

“Tell me at the hospital,” she says without believing it.

“Regina, please,” she says and her thumb caresses Regina’s cheekbone.

Her hands are cold and Regina closes her eyes. Her words are pulled from her kicking and screaming and shuddering. “Do you want, Henry, your parents–”

“Soon,” Emma says, and when Regina opens her eyes she’s looking at her with so much fondness and gentle crinkles at the side of her eyes.

“I should have told you,” Emma says. “When there was more time. It didn’t seem possible, and” she closes her eyes, opens them. “That doesn’t make sense, how I could accept…. but –”

“Emma, _what_.”

Emma runs a hand, then a finger down her cheek. She lands at her bottom lip and strokes it. Regina watches her wide-eyed, suddenly more terrified than ever before, her whole body livewire awake. “I love you, you know.”

Regina stares. And stares. She could say I know, and make it about Henry, their little ended too soon family, but she stares. She knows what those words mean in every part of her, every time they’ve gone to the depths of hell together and came back stronger. Emma throwing her hand into the darkness. A _thank you_ and Regina pulling herself away to fight the next beast. Wavering close at the end of the day, two bodies in orbit around the question of _maybe_.

Emma jumped through a ring of fire and didn’t let her die.

She holds Emma just the slightest bit closer and Emma holds back, presses their foreheads together. Regina can feel her breath, still warm, still there. Regina lets out another sob and oscillates between them, the barn, the dust on the floor, the concrete, her family behind her not knowing how much mourning tomorrow will have, but she knows. She always knows.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Emma says.

She kisses her. Just the slightest brush of their lips. In all the ways Daniel couldn’t, Emma kisses back, presses her lips gently, but firmly. It’s a quiet goodbye. Her hand curls behind Regina's neck, and she plays with the hairs there. She's shivering and she's cold, and Regina doesn't pray. She just holds her.

They feel it first.

It’s the warmth of a sunset. The pinks melting into orange. And then, it’s a burst of everything at once, every clipped word that became soft, every bumped shoulder, every brush of affection that could never be too much. _Let’s see if we can both beat fate. I believe her._ Stars become their formations, everything right and good all around them. Regina’s only felt it once before.

Emma gently stops kissing her only to look down in something like awe. Regina follows her gaze and cries again because the red is gone. It’s _gone_.

They look back at each other and the fondness on Emma’s face turns into relief and tentative elation. Regina smiles and smiles and smiles.

“Hey,” Regina says.

“Oh my god,” Emma says, and sits up. She runs her hands down Regina’s neck, back up to her cheeks and kisses her forehead, kisses her cheeks, her lips again. Regina kisses her back, caught up in Emma so full, so bright and alive.

They reluctantly part and Emma begins to laugh. “Oh my _god_.”

Regina can’t say anything yet, and she buries her face in Emma’s neck and cries again and breathes and breathes.

“Moms!” she hears Henry, hears the smile in his voice. “Mom, you did it!”

She lifts her head and smiles at him. She looks at Emma, beautiful alive breathing Emma, and they both open their arms for their son. With them both here, she feels something click into place in the center of her chest.

“Thank you. Regina, thank you.” David says, face awed for a moment before his lips twitch up and his eyes twinkle. “If not in the way we expected.”

“It was the way _I_ expected,” Snow says, bright and relieved.

“Oh, was it?” Regina drawls. “Do you see the future now, Snow?” Emma laughs and presses her forehead into Regina’s shoulder. She wants to kiss the top of her head, but.

Emma looks up at her and there might be something newly hesitant in her smile, but she’s still smiling. Regina holds onto that.

“Mother’s intuition,” Snow says. She claps her hands together. “Now, I doubt Granny’s will be open but let’s see if she’ll make an exception.”

* * *

It’s a quiet affair.

Since they’re the only patrons, Granny and Ruby sit down with them. They talk about everything but Emma almost dying, Regina halfway sure that they’re both the only ones who know how close it got, and that’s good, that’s fine, but Regina knows, and. They kissed.

They more than kissed. The kiss is why they’re here, and Emma spends the night looking everywhere but at Regina before she slips out the backdoor, _in need of air_.

Regina deflates, but does her best not to show it. Her best used to be enough in storybrooke, but Snow looks at her with concern.

“Go,” she says.

Henry rubs her back and gives her an encouraging smile.

Regina takes a breath, and walks out the door to Granny’s _what the heck was that?_

Emma is leaning against the wall, hunched over. Her face is stricken.

“Hey,” Regina says. “How’s the air?”

She looks up and gives a faint smile. “Shit,” she says.

Regina carefully settles against the wall beside her. “I agree.”

“Might be the first thing we’ve ever agreed on,” Emma says.

“No, I wouldn’t agree on that–” she laughs. “Touche, Ms. Swan.”

“No, wait, we’ve agreed on a lot of things, like. Look, what I,” Emma says, and wrings her hands together once. “What I said before–”

“You can take it back,” Regina says, the words painful and too small. “True love’s kisses don’t have to be romantic, you know that.”

“I can’t,” Emma says, and she pushes off the wall. “That’s the thing, Regina, I can’t and I really, _really_ don’t want to.” She steps in front of Regina, warm and outlined by stars. Slowly, she reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Regina’s breath hitches. Emma stands just the slightest bit closer, and Regina reaches up to brush imaginary lint off her jacket’s lapel, rest her hand at her collarbones.

“There’s a lot we have to talk about,” Regina finds herself saying, looking at her collarbone, the fine dusting of freckles underneath lamp light.

“Yeah,” Emma says. “Yeah. God, I didn’t– I can’t believe I’m here, you know?” She laughs shakily. “It feels like borrowed time.”

Regina lightly holds her jaw. “No, Emma Swan. We beat that damn prophecy and we’ll beat it again if we have to and, ” she shakes her head, throat burning. “We have right now, you hear me? It’s ours if we want it.”

“Okay,” Emma says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I really love right now.”

Regina looks up. Emma’s eyes are clear and beautiful and hers and in one swift motion, she kisses her again. Soft and sure, and slow, like they really do have all the time in the world.

They’ll talk tomorrow, because they have tomorrow. Right now, she doesn’t need more.

**Author's Note:**

> this is relentlessly dramatic and probably medically inaccurate and i love this ship so much. also, as always these days, i am only semi aware of what's going on in canon. the title is from shakespeare's 106th sonnet. special thanks to vidiabell for editing/yelling and sameengoddamnshaw for 5 am encouragement!


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